


Not So Numb

by lee_cameron26



Category: DRAMAtical Murder
Genre: Child Abuse, Confinement, Noiz's Childhood, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Younger Noiz (DRAMAtical Murder)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-24
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-22 09:25:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2502803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lee_cameron26/pseuds/lee_cameron26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He cannot feel physical pain, but is he immune to emotional pain as well?</p><p>((Just my thoughts on what Noiz's childhood must've been like.))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Not So Numb](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/79886) by Maki6Makenshi. 



> I've wrote this originally in portuguese, and now I've decided to translate it and post here. Translating is hard, so If you see any confusing sentences, please point it out so I can fix it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Since now we know that Noiz's real name is Wilhelm - and that his brother's name is Theo - , I did some small changes in this fic.
> 
> For the sake of curiosity, my headcanon for Noiz's lil' brother's name was Niels.

   There was a large cut on his skin. A wide wound down his leg, allowing the crimson liquid to escape from the inside of the body and drip, pooling on the ground. The blonde boy's eyes gleamed with curiosity and astonishment while he carelessly took his fingers to the cut, following it's edges, pulling, poking, examinating. Soon the blood covered his hand as well, dripping over the perfectly trimmed grass, tainting it. The shoe and the sock he wore on his right foot were dyed by the scarlet, and he frowned upon noticing that. Mother always reprimanded him for getting his clothes dirty... but it wasn't mud or dust. It wasn't brown or grayish, it wasn't ugly. The color was so vivid and looked so beautiful spread across his skin... Perhaps she wouldn't mind it so much this time.

   While thinking like that, Wilhelm stood up. A weird feeling ran trough his right leg, getting stronger at each step he took. However, as it didn't bother him much, he stopped wondering about it and started to run.

   His mother was in one of their living rooms, sitted elegantly on a beige armchair, a cup of tea resting on the small table in front of her. Her hair, a few tones lighter than her eldest son's, was up in a bun at the top of her head, exposing the long and slender neck, pointing out the high cheekbones and the delicate nose. Sitting on her lap there was a boy as blond as she was, but not even close as elegant. Theo was in a clumsy phase of the transition from baby to toddler, starting to acquire the proportions of a mini adult. And that phase was showing itself to be quite hiperative, since he was constantly turning from side to side to look at everything around him, hands and legs always moving, a burden to the mother trying her best to look perfect in front of the guest, an older woman that Wilhelm didn't knew. Ignoring the blabbering of the second woman, the boy stepped closer and pulled his mother's skirt, whose eyes turned in his direction filled with impatience.

   "Wim darling, not now, mommy is... Oh my God...", seeing the red stains left by the boy's hands on the light fabric of her dress, she frowned in a disapproving manner, "Marie!"

   One of the maids showed up immediately by hearing the call, almost as if she had been waiting just outside one of the doors. It wasn't an absurd assumption. Between the staff of the Kiesel manor, efficiency only lost to elegance.

   "Yes, ma'am?"

   "Wilhelm's hurt. He was probably playing in the gardens again. Take him to his bedroom and take care of it. I'll go check on him as soon as possible", turning to look at her guest, she slightly raised her lips with an expression that said 'sorry for the burden', "I apologize, dear, you know how children can be, and my Wim is so restless..."

   The two kept talking, but he wasn't able to hear anything else beyond that point, since the maid had placed her hands under his armpits and pulled him in her arms, faithfully following the orders received.

   The house was huge, full of corridors full of doors. Wilhelm had got lost In there several times, climbing up and down the stairs that seemed endless, opening door after door to find himself in rooms he'd never seen before. Marie however seemed to always know where to go, the sound of her heels against the wooden floor echoing against the ears of the boy swaying in her skinny arms. The motion, the silence disturbed only by the maid's short, monotone steps, made a weird feeling run trough Wilhelm's head. His vision started to get blurry and, before making it to the bedroom, he lost his conscience.

   The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that he wasn't in his bed. Or in his bedroom. Or in his house. The environment around him looked extremely pale and cold, and it was filled with an strangely unpleasant scent of cleanliness.

   The second thing he noticed, as he tilted his head slightly to the left, was that there was something stuck to his arm. Turning his head a bit more, he saw that it was a needle, attached to a tube full of a red liquid. That was weird.

   The third thing he noticed was that there was something making pressure against his other hand. It felt as if someone was holding it.

   Turning his head to the right, he saw that it was his mother, her hair falling down her slender shoulders. It took some years from her appearance, making her look the age she actually was.

   "Mommy? What happened?", confused, the little boy squeezed her hand, wanting to understand why his mother looked so upset. Did he do anything wrong? Was it... was it because he'd stained his clothes?

   "You lost too much blood", she answered with a sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose with her free hand, "Why you never learn, Wim? If you don't start to behave, you'll end up hurting yourself even more... When you come back home, we'll talk about it, all right?", the boy nodded, looking a bit sad, "Now tell me, how are you feeling? Does your leg still hurts much?"

   He didn't understood that question. His leg wasn't hurting. Not now, not when he got cut while playing in the gardens. He only noticed the wound when he saw the scarlet stains on the grass.

   "I'm fine, mommy. Nothing hurts"


	2. Broken

The sight of tears in the other's eyes caused Wilhelm's closed fist to stop in the middle of the air. That was weird... he hadn't hit that hard, had he?

Taking advantage from his hesitation, the other boy pushed him off and ran away, pushing trought the kids watching the fight. The commotion started to call the attention of the grown ups, and some of them were getting closer. Feeling all those eyes on him, Wilhelm stood up and got out of there before the adults saw him and warned his parents. If they discovered he'd got into yet another fight... The children stepped away to let him pass, the same expression in each of those faces. That was not the first time something like that happened, and by now he could easily identify the feeling behind their eyes.

Fear.

It was something he saw more and more in the expressions of the people around him.

Something called his attention. Someone was sitted on the floor with their back against the wall, a brunette girl standing next to them. It was Nathan, the boy he'd been fighting with barely a few seconds ago. He didn't recognized the girl. Approaching the two, he lifted his hands in sign of peace.

"Nathan, I'm so..."

"Stay away from him! Monster!", the girl stepped in front of Nathan in a protective manner, clenched fists and fury in her eyes. That angered Wilhelm. He was always getting into fights with older, stronger boys. He used to win, but even with that he'd been punched, kicked and hit several times in several different ways, and not even once he reacted in such a way. Why the other boy had to be so weak? Why was he being pointed as the bad guy? It didn't hurt. He got wounded so many times and the most he could feel was a weird uncomfortable feeling. Why the others didn't feel the same? Maybe...

Maybe... he really was a monster.

Turning his back to the girl, he kept walking. He didn't have an specific spot in mind. He just wanted to get out of there. Find a place without looks of fear and disapproval.

Why was that so hard?

They were at the house of friends of his parents, probably some family important enough to deserve the honor of being friends with the Kiesel family, and the boy got lost quickly. He'd been there before, but the house was as huge as his own. Too many corridors, too many doors. Too much silence. But perhaps this way no one would bother him.

His first thought was to wander through the gardens, but it was such an open environment that made him feel nervous. When he was younger, there's nothing better than to run freely between the plants, enjoying the feeling of freedom involving him. Looking one last time to the green covered ground, he turned around towards the inside of the house.

He ended up finding a music room with a beautiful white piano at the center. He didn't have much interest in music, specially classic, but the piano had such an aura of grandiosity, almost magnificent, and that called his attention. The instrument couldn't choose who'd be able to play him, but pianos like that were expensive, and not everyone could afford one. No freedom was absolute. It wasn't pleasant to think like that, but maybe it meant no prison was absolute also. Lost in thought, he almost didn't hear the steps coming closer.

He didn't turn around to see who it were, but a strong hand landed on his shoulder and forced him to turn around. Wilhelm recognized that face. It was Nathan's older brother.

His arms were restrained, as well as his legs, but he didn't have any interest in fighting back. He saw the other boy's fist drowning in his stomach, harder at each punch. When one of the boys kicked the back of his knee, he felt the surprise of losing his equilibrium. That seemed to motivate them all, and soon he no longer could keep the count of how many times he was hit.

Wilhelm wouldn't be able to say how much time he spent in there until his parents found him.

The expression of disappointment on their faces was becoming more and more familiar.

His mother was carrying his little brother on her arms. Theo. Still too young, too innocent to understand that his older brother was a monster.

After all, now he was sure. A human would never be treated in such a way. He couldn't feel, but he could see the bruises spread trough his body. He felt something weird in his right leg, a strong bothersome feeling that he only felt a few times before.

Was that pain? Or was pain that weird feeling at his chest growing stronger at each word that came out of his parent's mouths? He heard them before. Thousands of times. He could almost see them when he closed his eyes. But they always hit him.

Finally, they told him to stand up and go apologize to Nathan and his parents, and to accept their apologies concerning the behavior of their eldest son. Just as the protocol called for.

"I can't", answered the boy, indifferent, "I've tried already. My leg's probably broken. I can't stand"


	3. Danger

He knew something was wrong the minute he stepped out of the car.

He'd barely gave two steps towards the big white door that lead to the insides of his house when he felt his father's hand bury itself on his shoulder. Without muttering a single word, he started to drag him towards the house with large steps, not seeming to mind whenever the boy stumbled. Confused, Wilhelm glanced around looking for his mother with his eyes, sighting her still inside the car, lowered eyes and arms surrounding Theo, who was sitting on her lap.

"What's going on?", he never spoke much to his father, intimidated by the severe expression he always wore and trying not to disturb the eternally busy business man, but he was feeling really uneasy with that situation.

"Quiet", said Petrus Heinz Kiesel, not a single trace of emotion in his face and just the slightest hint of irritation in his deep voice, "There's nothing else to do. We already spent too much time dealing with this. Dealing with you"

The boy's eyes grew wider. The conversation he overheard at the hospital... they couldn't be serious. It was just something said in the heat of the moment... right?

"What does it mean? What's going to happen? Dad!", Wilhelm tried to get away, but his father stopped walking and threw his hand against his face with so much strenght that made him fall. Grabbing him by his collar, Mr. Kiesel pulled the boy back to his feet and looked him right on his eyes, a small hint of disgust appearing in those irises as green as his son's.

"Do not call me like that, you freak!"

The words got stuck on Wilhelm's throat. He... he knew he was a monster, but... he was trying. He wasn't getting into fights so much. He wasn't getting hurt so much. He wasn't going to the hospital so much. He was trying really hard to keep his clothes clean and to be polite to the guests. He was behaving well, right?

That... had been an accident. He didn't realize how hot the water on that bowl was. He didn't felt the heat burning trough the palms of his hands. He didn't saw his little brother just behind his back. It wasn't on purpose. He'd stumbled. Everyone stumbles, right?

Theo hadn't even got badly hurt. Some drops fell on his feet, making him scream more from surprise than from pain. He hadn't even needed to stay in the hospital. Wilhelm's hands were completely ruined. The bandages still covered them and there was a huge possibility that new scars would cover his skin because of that accident. But no one cared anymore, right?

Why would they care... right...

He was thrown into a bedroom that wasn't his, even though all his things were there. The door was locked behind him. There were no windows in the room. And, suddenly, he understood.

The conversation he accidentally overheard at the hospital...

They were serious.

"No...", they couldn't do it, "No!"

Wilhelm threw his right fist against the door, using all his strength.

"You can't lock me in here! Let me out!", his left knee hit the wood, and soon ge caught himself using all his body to try to set himself free. Shoulders, feet, elbows, nails... The white door started to become red.

"Dad... Mom... Please..."

Unable to feel pain, there was nothing to stop him to keep hurting his body. Bruises started to cover his hands under the bandages, also spreading trough his arms, shoulders, legs... not a single centimeter of his body was spared, and at that rhythm soon his whole skin would be more purple than white. And there was also the blood, going down his forehead in a nauseating way, falling over his right eye, drenching his clothes with the deep scarlet coming out of various cuts, big and small. The fabric of his shirt and pants already was ripped in several locations. His breath was heavy and unstable from the effort. His voice was strained, screams coming out as whispers, until even whispering became an impossible task.

His legs were the first to give up, bringing him down to his knees still in front of the door. Fighting to recover his breath, he pressed his forehead against the wood. Even like that, he kept pushing the door uselessly with his hands. His arms started to shake and his stomach twisted. But he felt so much dizziness that he only realized he'd threw up when he saw the gross and sticky substance all over his legs and knees. His whole body was trembling now. He couldn't speak anymore, so he just moved his lips, mouthing a simple question that actually wasn't that simple.

“Why?”

He knew it.

Despite how confused his mind was, he knew it.

He was a monster and there was nothing he could do about it.

He'd never be accepted by normal people.

He was always scaring them.

He was always hurting them.

He was a danger to others and to himself, a danger to his little brother

Theo.

He hurt Theo.

He deserved that.

While he thought about that, tears streamed down his face without him noticing. Parting his shaking lips, he mouthed one last word.

“Sorry"

And only then he lost his conscience.


	4. Wish

Time's something weird. Especially when you're unable to measure it.

There was a clock in the room, but it had been one of the many items repeatedly thrown against the door during the first days. Or maybe weeks. He couldn't say it anymore. It felt as if he was stuck in an endless day with nothing to do. When he managed to, little by little, get rid of the feeling of despair that'd settled down on his chest by realizing he wouldn't be leaving that room, boredom started to attack. It arrived so softly that sometimes Wilhelm wondered if it hadn't been there all the time, and he just didn't noticed in his determination to try and fool himself.

He really believed that they'd let him out.

Even though deep inside he knew... he always knew.

One day he finally gave up of breaking down the door, of making them listen to him. He let his wounds stop bleeding, he stopped refusing the food they provided him trought a gap in the door.

Maybe... he could get used to living like that.

Maybe... it wasn't that bad...

He managed to keep that attitude for a while, though he wasn't able to say how long. And then...

The lack of air.

The despair.

The chaos running through his mind.

The strong pounding of his heart against his chest.

He thought he was going to die.

He believed in that with all his being.

He wanted to die.

Weeping against the cold floor, he hugged himself. Almost without noticing, he started to press his nails against his skin, that grew paler at each day gone by. Red marks started to show in his arms. He could see them, but he couldn't feel them. That should feel bad. That should hurt. That should cause some sort of reaction. Anything.

His hands started to tremble. His breathing became unstable. He could barely think straight. What was there to think about? His world had been severely reduced. And he had no way to escape.

A scream escaped from his throat.

“Let me out!”

...

“Let me out”

...

“Let me out...”

…

Laying on his back, he faced the roof. Which color was the sly at that exact moment? He was always told that the sky's color was blue, but he could remember how dark it became during nighttime. The shades of yellow, orange and pink that painted the sky during dawn and twilight. The color of the sky... He could remember...

How was his mother's face?

How was Leona's face?

Had he been locked for that long?

Enough to forget his own mother's face?

He knew that her hair was blonde, but he couldn't remember the exact shade. He knew she always showed elegance and sophistication. But what was the shape of her nose, her mouth, her eyes? If he saw her again... would he recognize her?

Theo...

How was Theo?

Did he remembered his older brother? Did he remembered he had an older brother? He was so small...

His father...

He could remember his father's eyes. And the disgust in them while staring at his own son.

Just that. Nothing more.

He was so tired.

Nothing hurted,  but sometimes he reached a point where he could no longer move. His arms were so heavy... His legs shaked if he tried to stand up.

How much time had it been?

Days?

Weeks?

Months?

…

Years?

He felt different. The objects around him seemed smaller, bit by bit. His movements were clumsier, and it didn't seem to be related to tiredness. Could he be getting taller? He was definitely getting thinner. Food kept being sent regularly, but he couldn't always eat it. And when he could, many times his stomach refused to accept that weird presence, making him put it all out.

Maybe he'd end up dying for the lack of nutrients.

Maybe he'd end up dying.

Shouldn't he speed up the process?

Life was just a short walk towards death, right?

If he died, he could get out of there, right?

If he died...

Give up

Sleep and never to wake up again.

Finish that hell.

After all, it wouldn't hurt, right?

Why...

Why was he hesitating?

It would be better to everyone. It would be better if he was never born. The world wasn't a place that accepted freaks like him. Since he was born, the only way to fix this mistake was to eliminate this miserable existence that could only hurt others.

But...

This was what they wanted.

His parents.

The whole world.

…

It was an accident.

It wasn't his fault.

Then, why?

... Day after day, week after week, he started to understand...

He hadn't done nothing wrong.

He was locked because he risked the image of his parents. The magnificent Kiesel family couldn't have it's name tainted by someone like him.

It was so simple.

There was no right, or wrong. The world was all about wishes and goals and how much one was willing to risk for them.

He didn't want to stay locked in there.

But that went against his parents' wishes.

So he would have to find a midterm.

A way to get what he wanted, by doing what the others wanted.

His parents didn't want a child that could ruin the family's reputation.

He didn't want to be locked up in that room.

The only solution... was to escape.

And the only question... was how.


End file.
